


Easy as 1-2-3

by allowaykirk



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Sharing a Bed, also smut, just...so much fluff, not so much accidental as spur of the moment but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-10 10:56:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6981466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allowaykirk/pseuds/allowaykirk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were three times that Jack and Bitty fell asleep together in Bitty’s room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. (Im)Parfait

It’s Thursday, but it’s barely September, so Jack managed to get the weekend off.  
“It wasn’t easy,” he says over pie at the kitchen table, which is now stuffed with burly hockey players, squished in shoulder-to-shoulder. “Training’s picking up—our first games in four weeks. If it weren’t for Guy getting sick, and then Thirdy might’ve pulled something in his shoulder…nothing major, but finally Georgia caved in and convinced Coach to let us rest up for the weekend.” He smiles and spreads his hands. “So here I am.”  
“Well, shit,” Holster grins, cherry juice staining his teeth. “That’s a helluva way to get a weekend off, but we’re glad you’re here.”  
Jack smiles. “Me too.”  
Behind him, Bitty slices more pie and bites back a grin of his own. He’s his own type of glad—a type that can’t be spoken of here in this packed room, of course. But he’d made his sentiments plenty clear during all those Skype sessions. And anyways, there’d be time for all that mushy nonsense later, when everyone had gone to bed…  
The pie is devoured to the last crumb, and the group stays in the kitchen until half past 11, and is only separated by Tango falls asleep on his own plate because the poor boy’s not ready for the college-sleeping schedule just yet.  
Amid the laughter and happy chatter as the group dissolves, it’s easy for Bitty to grab Jack’s arm and say, “Hey, Jack—mind if I borrow you for some French?”  
“Of course,” Jack says, eyes glittering but hands held in check. And the two of them climb the steps as inconspicuously as they can.  
Once the door’s shut, of course, coy smiles smash into each other, and Jack lifts Bitty up off the floor. Bitty, in turn, flings off his shoes and wraps his legs around Jack until the two of them are leaning on the door to avoid tumbling to the ground.  
“I missed you,” Jack whispers into Bitty’s cheek.  
“I never would’ve guessed,” Bitty smiles, and already he can feel his cheeks flushing. He leans his forehead against Jack’s. “I missed you too.”  
They stay there for a moment, frozen in time, still and perfect as a photograph.  
Then Bitty leans in for another kiss, but Jack angles his head so their noses are touching. And Jack’s lips are tantalizingly out of Bitty’s reach.  
“Wait,” Jack says. “You have a test tomorrow, if I remember correctly.”  
Bitty purses his lips. “If my professor’s boyfriend was visiting from another state—“  
“A grammar test,” Jack presses.  
“Grammar doesn’t come and visit me from Rhode Island—“ But he stops with a squeak of a laugh, because Jack ambles over to the bed, Bitty still in his arms, and sits them both down on the bed.  
“Come on, I’m sure we can make this romantic somehow.” Jack cocks an eyebrow. “French is the language of love, after all.”  
Bitty rolls his eyes. “Well then it’s no wonder you’re a Canadian, because you’re a horrible flirt.”  
But Jack is nonetheless an incorrigible flirt—and once the flashcards are out, Bitty has to admit that there is something very lovely about Jack speaking to him in French.  
By midnight, they’ve worked out a pattern—a reward system of sorts.  
“Now if you were to say that in passé composé, it’d be—“  
“Nous nous sommes embrassé,” Bitty whispers, eyes half-closed as his face nears Jack’s. Their lips touch, and for a moment the whole world goes warm.  
“Correct,” Jack says, his voice husky and soft as he leans his forehead to Bitty’s. “And for imparfait, you’d say—“  
“Nous étudiions quand tu m’embrassés,” Bitty breathes, hardly daring to raise his voice, and tilts his head again to catch another kiss.  
The night wheedles on in such a manner until finally, at quarter to 1, they lay sprawled out on Bitty’s duvet, half-asleep, flashcards littering the floor. Jack’s mouth is blushed a deep red, and Bitty runs his thumb over it, wondering again at the softness of Jack Zimmermann’s mouth.  
“You know,” Bitty says thoughtfully, voice soft with the nearing of sleep, “that was a lot easier than usual.”  
“Mm?” Jack mumbles into Bitty’s hair.  
“You should come visit more often,” comes the cheeky reply as Bitty nestles his face into Jack’s shirt.  
Bitty can hear the smile in Jack’s breath as he kisses the top of his head. “You make it so tempting,” he says, his voice soft and gentle with sincerity. Then his chest heaves in a sigh. “I wish—that that we were closer—“ Bitty untucks his head to see that Jack’s ears are red. “Physically, I mean—like, geographically—“  
Bitty snorts. He reaches up and puts his fingers to Jack’s lips again, but this time to stop his stammering. “Well, you’re here now, handsome. So we might as well enjoy it.”  
He looks up to stroke Jack’s bangs, and God, the way Jack’s looking down at him with that smile…  
They kiss, long and lazy with sleepiness, until they’ve slid down the headboard and are curled up in the cocoon of Bitty’s comforter. Bitty could have looked into those eyes for ages, whispering stupid sweet nothings to each other until the sun comes up. But it’s one in the morning and his eyelids are so heavy…

Bitty thinks he fell asleep first, but Jack swears on his mother’s soul that he was already half-out, because if he had been able, he definitely would have made their lives easier and staggered down to the couch.  
In the end, it doesn’t matter much who fell asleep first. They’re a unit, those two, and they stay nestled close to each other for the whole night.  
But at 8:30, Bitty’s alarm clock begins to blare. Both of them snap awake, and Bitty nearly jumps out of his skin.  
“Jack!”  
“Wha—oh, shit—“  
“You’ve got to go!”  
“You’re telling me!”  
Bitty may be short for a hockey player, but he’s not lacking in strength. He manages to push Jack off the bed with his legs—between the careful touch of a loving boyfriend and the panicked reflex of a boy who’s about to be caught in bed with someone—while frantically banging at the alarm clock. Jack, luckily, manages to get his bearings and head for the door. He practically dives out the door as Bitty tosses his notebook into his bag and begins to scramble for clothes.  
By the time he makes it downstairs, there are a couple puffy-eyed teammates down in the kitchen, but he doubts anyone’s looked at the couch. Sure enough, there’s Jack, a blanket haphazardly thrown over him as he feigns sleep.  
Puffy-eyed teammates or not, Bitty doubts he can sneak into the lounge and ruffle Jack’s hair without anyone noticing. So he just grabs a granola bar and hollers as he steps through the front door,” Bye, y’all!”  
“Bye, Bitty,” comes the monotone answer of all the sleepyheads in the kitchen.  
As soon as he’s out the door, Bitty whips out his phone and sends a quick text—slept well last night. ;)  
He doesn’t get the response until after the French test—Jack must have left his phone up in Bitty’s room. But the simple words on the screen—tu m’embrassés bien, aussi—are enough to make Bitty smile until his cheeks hurt.


	2. Takes Two to Tango

In hindsight, Jack probably should have prepared for this better.  
He knew it’d be inconvenient for him to visit during finals. But scheduling during his season had been next to impossible, and then the forecast was predicting another blizzard, and then the MBTA was delayed…  
By the time Jack actually makes it to the Haus, they’re both a little raw—Jack from the Falconers’ grueling loss on Monday, and Bitty over the stress of all his tests.  
But Jack is not prepared for what he walks into when he comes through the door.  
And after the last few months of laborious training, he finds himself taking stats.  
Amount of people screaming: at least 4 (Holster, Chowder, Dex, and Ransom. Maybe Ransom should count for two people—it’s especially loud tonight.)  
Crying: 2 (Whiskey and Tango. Well, at least they have each other.)  
Asleep: 1 (Nursey. Not even on the couch—the boy is sprawled face-down on the floor, drooling all over his notes.)  
Missing: Bitty  
Jack creeps through the foyer as quietly as he can. Holster pauses his screaming to say hello, and Nursey makes a sound against his papers, but everyone else seems pretty occupied.  
Well, that works out better for him. He sneaks upstairs without any questions, and is alone in the hallway.  
“Bitty?” Jack knocks at the door. “It’s me—ah, Jack.”  
“Oh—just a second, honey—“ Bitty’s voice calls from behind the door. There’s a shuffling sound, and a second later the door opens, and—oh.  
To call the room ‘untidy’ would be a gross understatement. Clothes litter the floor, and nearly all the mugs in the Haus seem to be crowded onto Bitty’s desk. The garbage can is half-hidden by all the crumpled papers, and every surface has at least two sticky notes. Jack counts at least eight on Bitty’s comforter.  
And in the center of it all is Bitty, with his hair mussed to one side, dark bags under his eyes, in an old sweatshirt and ripped jeans.  
Oh, Bits.  
“Big test tomorrow, huh?” Jack says, gently as he can as he takes Bitty’s hands.  
Bitty shrugs, but even that motion is half-hearted and fatigued. “Oh, no, I actually had my last final this afternoon. But it, ah, didn’t go as well as I’d like…I mean, I think I did okay, but I was really hoping for more than okay, you know? And anyways, it’s hell down there in the living room—oh, and we ran out of flour of all things! So I can’t even bake to de-stress!”  
Bitty’s tottering in the doorway, so Jack leads him over to the bed and they sit down.  
“What class was it?”  
“Calc.”  
“Off. Do you want to talk about it?”  
Bitty leans forwards, his fingers raking through his hair—Jack can see why it was so messy before. “I just—I don’t get it. I really did study this time—I did the practice problems and went to group sessions at the library and I knew all the equations, it’s just…”  
His voice drops off suddenly. And suddenly it seems like Bitty is dangerously close to tears.  
Jack needs to fix this. Fast.  
Ok, think Jack. When you’re stressed, what do you do?  
Sleep. Call Papa. Watch documentaries.  
“Would you like to watch a movie?”  
Bitty blinks at him.  
“No, no, wait! I—I don’t mean to change the subject. It’s just—when I’m panicking, or feeling stressed out, I’ll try to distract myself with documentaries, or TV, or a book—anything to—“  
“Jack—“  
“Or if you want to sleep, too, though, that’s ok! Things are always better after a good night’s sleep—“  
“Jack—“  
“Whatever you—“  
“Sweetheart!”  
Jack’s thoughts grind to a halt when he hears Bitty laugh. It’s strained, and still tired, but God, it’s good to see him smiling, at least.  
“A movie would be nice,” Bitty tells him.  
So Jack grabs the laptop while Bitty rearranges the pillows, and they lean back; Jack against the headboard, and Bitty against Jack’s chest.  
“Any good cooking movies?” Bitty murmurs into Jack’s shirt.  
“The Hundred-Foot Journey…Julie and Julia…Ratatouille…”  
“I’ve been meaning to see that one,” Bitty says shyly.  
After a little searching, they find a decent bootleg on Youtube, turn down the lights, and settle into the sheets, curled up with the laptop. The only spots of brightness in the room are the fairy lights and the computer screen, but they light up Bitty’s face in a way that’s just glorious. Jack finds himself gazing at Bitty a lot more than at the screen.  
However, it eventually becomes apparent that perhaps Ratatouille was not the right choice. There are a few themes that hit a little close to home—the pressure of performing under the spotlight, following in the footsteps of a famous father, and acceptance of the marginalized. And then, of course, it all comes to a climax near the end of the film. And Jack finds himself clutching at Bitty as they gape at the computer screen, both of them bawling their eyes out.  
There’s a knock on the door.  
“Guys? You okay?” Chowder’s voice is soft through the door, but his concern is quite apparent.  
“WE’RE FINE,” Bitty sobs.  
Chowder apologizes, then says goodbye, then apologizes again. His door shuts, and Bitty and Jack cry a little harder. Jack’s head is throbbing, and his throat is ragged.  
“I…made a mistake,” Bitty hiccups, and Jack holds him tight.  
When he has his voice back, Jack whispers, “I was one that suggested a movie.”  
“I was the one that chose it!”  
They sit there snuffling for a bit more. As the screen goes black and their breathing eases, Jack feels the embarrassment settle in.  
“Sorry,” he murmurs into Bitty’s hair.  
“For what?”  
“For, ah…exploding. Imploding. Whatever just happened.”  
“Honey—I did too, y’know.”  
“Yeah, but…I think I may have started. And anyways—“  
“Jack.” There’s a hand on his chest. Bitty spreads his fingers against the fabric of Jack’s shirt, and Jack watches, mesmerized.  
“Jack, we both cried. It was a mess, but we did it. And, besides…” Bitty wets his lips, as if he’s searching for the right words. “You don’t have to be sorry for showing emotion.”  
Jack blinks. He’s never looked at it that way before. It was always about keeping up the persona of being fine. If that mask slipped—if he cracked—then he had failed. And failure necessitated an apology.  
His eyes fill again, but he bites his lip and nods. Bitty reaches up and draws his arms around Jack in a hug.  
“If it makes you feel any better,” Bitty whispers, “I was totally going to cry over the Calc thing anyways.”  
Jack breath catches, but this time it’s because of a laugh. “Do you feel any better?”  
“Yeah.” A pause. “I’ll feel even better once I’ve baked a pie over it.”  
Jack laughs again—it’s easier this time. “How about this—tomorrow morning we get up and run over to Stop and Shop—“  
“Which?”  
“Whichever you like. And we buy all the damn flour we can carry, and we bake as many pies as you want.”  
Bitty leans back a bit so Jack can see his face. He’s smiling, and there’s a wondrously soft look in his eyes as he strokes Jack’s hair. “I’d like that very much,” he says, slowly and clearly. He presses a kiss to Jack’s lips, and Jack lets himself lean back into it. His hands go to Bitty’s hips, and Bitty’s rake through his hair. It’s deep and achingly good and hits him in all the right places and by the time they part, he’s a little dizzy.  
(And just a bit out of breath. Sue him. He hasn’t seen Bitty in a while.)  
They slide down the headboard again, just as they did in September, but this time it’s no mistake.  
“The boys will wonder where you are,” Bitty whispers.  
“Ransom and Holster fall asleep together watching TV all the time,” Jack replies. “But if you don’t want me to, I can—“  
Bitty silences him with another kiss. “I just wanted you to know what you’re committing yourself to,” he says smugly.  
And so Jack brushes his teeth in Bitty’s bathroom and changes alongside Bitty and crawls into Bitty’s bed and it’s the easiest thing in the world. There’s a bit of finagling about how to optimize the space of the mattress, but soon they’ve settled into the bed. Jack’s arched against the wall with Bitty curled up beside him.  
Bitty nuzzles into his chest, and Jack curls his arm over him, and before they can even exchange soppy pillow talk, they’re fast asleep.  
The sun rises and the beams filter through the window, warming them in their nest of blankets. But neither of them stirs until long after the rest of the Haus has left for their last finals.  
Jack wakes up slowly, gradually. His limbs are heavy and his body is nestled perfectly into the dip of the mattress.  
Bitty snuffles in his sleep. His hair is disheveled, but in a gloriously endearing way—the longer hair up top cascading down onto the pillowcase, glittering gold in the timid winter sun.  
He’ll wake Bitty in a bit, Jack decides. But for now, it’s more than enough to lay here in the peaceful quiet, feeling the velvety softness of Bitty’s skin under his fingers.  
He strokes the curve of Bitty’s nose, tenderly as he can. “I love you,” he breathes.  
It’s not the first time he’s said it—not by a long shot—but it still feels just as special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Scores got posted,” Bitty says while Jack’s rolling the dough.  
> “Oh? How’d you do?”  
> Bitty shrugs at his phone. “Not horrible, so there’s that. Everyone in the group chat agreed the test sucked ass.”  
> “Maybe the teacher will curve it.”  
> “Maybe.” Bitty eases off of the countertop and walks over to Jack. He wraps his arms around Jack’s chest, lacing them right over Jack’s heart. Convinient, since Jack’s heartbeat just skittered.  
> “I’ve got other things to think about right now,” Bitty says into Jack’s spine. And Jack grins, because he can hear the smile in Bitty’s voice.
> 
> ****
> 
> Fun fact: this is based off of my exact reaction to Ratatouille as a child. For ages I couldn’t even think about the movie’s ending without getting myself near tears.  
> Forgive me, I was a small bean.


	3. Three's a Crowd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: sexual content

Chowder felt bad lying to Bitty. He really did.  
But what kind of sadist would look into those eyes and say, ‘Actually, Bitty, me, Dex, and Nursey are gonna be up studying until the ass-crack of dawn!’  
So instead he’d crossed his fingers behind his back and assured Bitty that, yes, of course, he would be going to sleep early that night to be ready for the next morning’s final.

 

So when Dex and Nursey come upstairs after dinner, they’re careful to be quiet so Bitty will think they’re asleep.  
But now they can’t concentrate—there’s a buzzing coming from Bitty’s room. Chowder’s used to it by now—it means Bitty’s playing his music with his speakers, and the bass is reverberating through the floorboards. It’s quiet enough so that the song’s hard to place—Bitty’s trying to be courteous, Chowder guesses, and doesn’t want to wake the Haus. But Bitty has an fondness for loud music, and so even with the late hour, the bass is pumping.  
Or maybe that’s not the bass.  
There’s another new sound. It’s thumping, and it’s getting annoying.  
“So if you got that for x…” Dex leans over to see Chowder’s notebook, then jumps at a particularly loud bang. “Jeez! Is he gonna start drilling next?”  
The song dips down in volume again, then swells back up.  
“Sound familiar,” Nursey says, frowning.  
“Is that…” Chowder cocks his head, listening. “…Partition?”  
There’s another thump, and what sounds like a gasp from across the hall. Nursey’s face lights up. He breaks into uncontrollable laughter.  
“He’s getting laid!” He cackles, nearly rolling onto Dex, who looks much less amused. “He’s playing Partition and—oh my God, he’s getting laid! That’s why he wanted you to go to bed, Chowder!”  
“Nursey, come on, we don’t know—“ but Dex pauses when there’s another thump, and then a creaking that sounds exactly like the springs in a squeaky mattress.  
They all sit there for a moment. The squeaking and thumping continues. Partition hums through the floor.  
“Yep,” Dex says finally, resigned. “He’s having sex.”  
Nursey dissolves into giggles once more.  
“I don’t get it,” Chowder says. “I didn’t see anyone come into the Haus.”  
“Maybe he doesn’t want us to know,” Dex shrugs.  
“He has a window,” Nursey says, a little breathless from laughter. “I bet you all five bucks he snuck someone up from the Reading Room.”  
Chowder stares. “How would you—“  
Dex cuts in, somehow even more resigned than before. “A ladder. A tree branch. A rope. People will perform all manners of parkour to facilitate sex.”  
“You talk like you’ve got experience,” Nursey chirps. Dex’s ears flush a delicate shade of pink.  
Chowder has to derail this conversation—fast—before the textbooks start flying.  
“Hey, where’s Jack sleeping tonight? Wasn’t he gonna stay with Bitty?”  
Dex falls for the bait, eager to get out of the previous conversation. “Dunno. He’s probably hiding out in Lardo’s room for now, judging by all the damn banging in Bitty’s.”  
“God, I hope she’ll let him stay in there. What time is he leaving for his train?”  
“Just after 7, I think.”  
Nursey snorts. “Jesus. A moment of silence for Jack’s loss of sleep tonight.” They all pause and hold their hands over their textbooks for a moment. “Okay, right, onto question 10…”  
They study, and the banging becomes white noise in the background. Eventually Partition fades out.  
“Thank Christ,” Dex says, eyes to the ceiling.  
Pillowtalk begins to blare through the walls.  
“God fucking—“  
He’s cut off by Nursey, who has been, once again, reduced to a giggle fit.  
“Nursey,” Dex chides. “You are nineteen fucking years old—“  
There’s another thump, louder, and –oh, God—voices. They’re too quiet to hear, but—  
“Jesus,” Nursey gasps, eyes streaming. “Oh my God, I’m going to get a 30 on the final tomorrow and you can all blame Bitty and his mystery man over there.”  
“You won’t get a 30 if you focus,” Chowder says. “Now, on 12—“  
“How can I focus when Haus Mom is having loud, passionate sex across the hall? Jeez, Chowder, how often do you have to deal with this?”  
“This is the first time,” Chowder grumbles.  
Nursey slings his arms around the two of them. “Gentlemen, we have been blessed with the rare opportunity of hearing Samwell Men’s Hockey darling, Eric Bittle, performing coitus. What a moment.”  
“Nursey, it’s his sex life,” Chowder says. “We don’t need to revel in it.”  
“Not our fault we can hear it, though.”  
“Chowder’s right,” Dex says. “Besides, we need to study.”  
“We’re not going to get anything done with all this racket,” Nursey argues.  
“I am not going to wait it out,” Dex declares, stubbornly crossing his arms. “And the Reading Room definitely isn’t an option—“  
“Lardo’s?”  
“We’re not waking her up for this.”  
“Downstairs,” Chowder says, and so they pick up their textbooks and head into the hallway, as quietly as possible.  
They crash on the couch and quiz each other, and every ten minutes or so Nursey sends Dex to check and see if Bitty’s done.  
“They’ve moved onto Ariana Grande now,” Dex says after twenty minutes, face crinkled. “Loud as ever.”  
Eventually, the group decides to get through the whole practice quiz. “They can’t go that long, can they?” Nursey asks, a little incredulous.  
So finally, at two in the morning, they plod their way back up the stairs, and the hallway’s quiet. They’re careful to be quiet on their way to Chowder’s room, and once the door’s closed, they’re far too tired to chirp.  
Chowder cuddles up into the bed, and Dex and Nursey curl up beside him like cats.  
Chowder sleeps like a rock, and is only roused by the smell of eggs and pancakes, and the sound of—whistling?  
The unpleasant business from last night hits Chowder like a truck.  
Of course. Bitty is whistling while making breakfast. Because he had sex.  
“Tell him to not,” Nursey groans, shielding his face from the sunlight that filters through the blinds.  
They change in a fog, blinking blearily while trying to remember what they crammed the night before, then head down the stairs.  
Jack’s down there with Bitty, the two of them cooking side by side. They both turn and smile when they hear the creak of the staircase.  
“Morning, y’all!” Bitty calls out as he pulls out the plates. Jack starts ladling the eggs as the Frogs sit down at the table.  
Chowder eats his eggs and watches Bitty maneuver around Jack, laughing when they nearly collide. Jack, for his part, is laughing as well, and sometimes purposefully stepping in front of Bitty—he’s being uncharacteristically chipper for the hour. Didn’t he used to be a bit of a grump in the morning?  
“How…do you do it?” Nursey asks, leaning over his plate with a haggard look on his face.  
“Do…what?”  
“Be awake,” Nursey hisses before he spoons himself some eggs.  
Jack turns an even more uncharacteristic shade of pink. “Well, uh, early to bed—“  
“Early to rise,” Bitty finishes, equally flushed. Chowder’s far too tired to read into it. He finishes his eggs, and Bitty comes over with the skillet to ladle the pancakes onto their plates.  
“Thanks. Oh, and Bitty—“  
Chowder can recognize that look on Nursey’s face from a mile away. “No, Nursey—“  
“Chowder’s too much of a white lily to complain, but next time you sneak some mystery man in through your window, keep it down a bit.”  
Jack nearly drops the pan he’s watching, and only catches with a spectacular spray of water.  
Dex’s mouth is wide open. “NURSEY.”  
Bitty’s gone so red that his eyes are a stark white in his head. He begins to stammer an explanation, but it’s all an incoherent mess.  
“Jack, I don’t know how you managed to escape hearing all that, but you’re lucky,” Dex says in a grim tone. He looks haunted.  
This time Jack really does drop the pan.  
Bitty’s now stuttering at double the volume. “Well—uh—you know—“  
“For a bit,” Jack says quickly. “I got kicked out—oh, would you look at the time, my train—“  
“Bye y’all!” Bitty dives for Jack’s duffel bag and the two of them haul ass out of the Haus.  
The three Frogs sit there, trying to figure out what just happened.  
“Damn,” Dex says finally, “that’s cold. Kicking Jack Zimmermann out of your room while he’s visiting?”  
Nursey plucks a strawberry off of Dex’s pancake. “You all owe me five bucks, by the way.”  
“We never agreed to that bet, Nursey.”  
Chowder frowns. “I feel like there’s something we’re missing here.”  
“Yeah,” Nursey says, remorse in his voice. “It’s called sleep, Chowder.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in Bitty's playlist, you can find it here: http://8tracks.com/alloway/what-the-frogs-heard
> 
> Thanks for reading - I had a lot of fun writing this! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Translation: You kissed me well, too.


End file.
